


Aishiteru / 愛してる

by melodycanta



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 19:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17148038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodycanta/pseuds/melodycanta
Summary: Otoya is sick, but it's not the kind of sick that's cured with some rest and healthy habits.  Tokiya is lost.Inspired by 愛してる by 高鈴。





	Aishiteru / 愛してる

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lana_Fair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lana_Fair/gifts).



> I had a lot of intentions to do holiday fics for a lot of people and then work got busy and having one day off the entire month of December kind of killed any free time I had to do so (I even sweatshopped about 10k words in the last week, but it's all drivel, in case anyone was under the incorrect impression that everything I write is gold). I know this isn't holiday themed, but the holidays and I don't generally get along very well.
> 
> Also, I'm so rusty writing narrative after working on Lycoris for so long . . . it's really nice to just drop a sound effect in there and call it good.
> 
> As always, my translated lyrics are a very rough translation, and I cut out a line because it didn't fit . . . it's Tokiya's work in progress. You can't listen to that song and not think Mamoru Miyano would do an incredible cover of it though.
> 
> Merry Christmas, Lana. ❤

Tokiya gasps for breath as he hauls Otoya up the final steps to their apartment. The redhead is breathing even harder, his face flushed, eyelids threatening to flutter closed the second he gets a second to rest. Usually, Tokiya enjoys living on the top floor of their apartment complex, and the fact that they don’t have an elevator is an excuse not to get in some cardio in the mornings, but the last few days have made him question that decision more than ever.

He fumbles with his keys with his free hand, trying to ignore the way Otoya’s breath rattles in his lungs. They’ve just come from the hospital, where Otoya has been treated for a viral infection the last few days, and Tokiya is torn between taking him back for more treatment and keeping him home where he feels at ease. Hospitals are not Otoya’s idea of fun. In fact, Tokiya’s pretty sure he’d rather tightrope from 104 all the way to Tokyo Tower than spend another night in the hospital, and that’s saying something because the redhead is _terrified_ of heights.

He finally gets the front door open and helps Otoya hobble inside. “Bed,” he says when Otoya tries to stop on the way to the bedroom.

“Can’t I at least get a shower first?”

It’s a good idea logically, and Otoya’s pleading eyes are always effective on him, even with how tired he looks right now, so he nods. “Do you need help?”

“I’ve got it! I’ll just make sure to sit down.” He pecks Tokiya on the cheek before detangling their limbs and slowly making his way over to the bathroom.

“Keep the door open, and shout if you need anything,” Tokiya calls after him. He’s itching to go in there and help—or at least watch—but this is the first moment Otoya’s had alone since before he was in the hospital. This entire situation is new for them. Of course they’ve both gotten ill before; with their constant interaction with the public, it would be impossible not to. Tokiya makes sure to keep them on a strict regimen to get well (Otoya calls him a drill sergeant during these times) and usually it’s a couple of weeks at the most before they’re completely well again. They don’t even usually take days off work to recuperate. But this time was different. Otoya hadn’t been feeling well the entire day before, and Tokiya should have known that something was really wrong when he didn’t put up much of a fight at taking some of the bitter herbal medicine. Four hours later, Tokiya had woken up to the sound of his boyfriend vomiting, accompanied by a horrific, sharp wheezing sound that hadn’t occurred to him as Otoya’s breathing until he’d gotten up to investigate and saw how hard he was having to work to inhale.

In the moments of silence, Tokiya can still hear it, echoing against the bathroom tile.

It was pretty obvious that something was wrong just on sight. Otoya was almost grey minus the dramatic flush on his cheeks from the exertion, trembling just to keep himself sitting upright. Tokiya’s heart had dropped so quickly that he’d become lightheaded, but he’d called emergency services, and then Ren when it became apparent that they’d need to drive to the hospital themselves. Once they’d arrived, he was admitted immediately. Five torturous hours later, and Otoya had been diagnosed with a nasty viral infection that was producing fluid in his lungs.

Something clatters to the ground, and Tokiya instinctively moves towards the bathroom, but Otoya calls out a quick “I’m fine!” and he forces himself to stop. The last few days have been a lot of strain. Tokiya’s been worried sick and working overtime to cover Otoya’s absences, and of course the staff wouldn’t let him stay overnight in Otoya’s hospital room to watch over him. That’s culminated in a lot of sleepless nights right there, just trying not to think of Otoya tired and scared in the hospital all alone (or worse, thinking of Otoya making that horrible rattling sound as he choked on the liquid in his lungs and suffocated). He wants things to return to normal, but he has to remind himself that Otoya wants that even more than he does.

“Tokiya?”

He can’t help the sigh of relief that he exhales before entering the bathroom. True to direction, the doors are open, and he can feel the steam waft into the exterior room as he enters. “Everything okay?”

Otoya is breathing hard again, which probably means that the water is too hot. Steam is heavy and hard to draw into the lungs as oxygen, or so the doctor said. “I can’t hold it up any longer,” he says, holding out the shower head. Tokiya strips off his socks and rolls up his pant legs before he takes it. He also turns down the heat, just in case it’s too much.

He could technically just put the shower head back in the holder and help move Otoya under it, but there’s something reassuring in being able to help for the first time in days. He murmurs a warning before dousing Otoya’s hair to rid it of the excess shampoo, and even though he didn’t roll up his sleeves, he still works his free hand through. The water soaks into his cuff and sticks to his arm, but it’s only a minor inconvenience in comparison to his task.

“Thank you,” Otoya murmurs once his breathing slows again. His eyes are closed, even though Tokiya’s long since turned off the water and moved on to toweling the red strands dry.

“I did tell you to let me know if you needed anything.”

“I didn’t bring anything to change into either.”

He wraps the towel around Otoya’s shoulders and holds the front until Otoya’s hand replaces his. “I’ll go get something. Hold tight.”

He almost grabs the same pajamas as Otoya was wearing the night he was admitted to the hospital—they’re clean now, just as everything in the bedroom and bathroom has been washed and sanitized—but the thought sends a quick shiver down his spine. Watching him sleep in the same clothes, in the same sheets, still struggling to breathe . . .

The thought makes him sick, and he shoves the pajama set aside so that he can grab a pair of sweatpants and an old sweatshirt that, based on the purple color, used to be his. Otoya is fond of co-opting his old clothing for sleepwear . . . or loungewear . . . or really just clothing in general and Tokiya can’t say he dislikes the habit aside from when he’s not quite done wearing said clothing. At the moment though, if Otoya asked for the shirt on his back, he’d strip it off immediately and give it to him, and he knows it.

He quickly helps Otoya change into the clothing and blow dries his hair so that it’s not damp when it hits the pillow (Otoya says he doesn’t mind, but Tokiya can’t sleep like that, so he has no idea how Otoya can) before tucking him into bed. “Don’t fall asleep yet; you’ve got to take your medication,” he warns.

The antibiotics are in a paper bag in the kitchen, next to an empty glass that Tokiya fills with water. Otoya’s eyelids are already fluttering in his bid to avoid sleep. Tokiya sits next to him as he takes the pills and drains the glass of water, taking it from him to set on the nightstand. When he stands to go back into the kitchen though and give the redhead some peace, Otoya’s hand reaches out to clasp his wrist. “Stay,” he croaks.

“I’m just going out to the kitchen,” he promises, but Otoya shakes his head.

“Just until I fall asleep?” he pleads.

Tokiya now knows what it would feel like to want to wage a war over someone, because if someone came in and asked him to leave Otoya’s side, he’d probably commit murder instead. He strips off his damp shirt so that he’s only in his undershirt and pants before laying down on top of the blankets. Otoya cuddles up to him, clinging tightly, and he smooths a hand down the redhead’s back as he feels Otoya’s face press into the crook of his neck. The only touch they’ve had for days is being able to hold hands thanks to the constant surveillance from the hospital staff, and Otoya’s fear of hospitals probably wasn’t blunted by a mere half hour of hand holding. “You’re home now,” he says in what he hopes is a soothing voice.

Otoya nods.

Tokiya still isn’t entirely sure what the fear of hospitals is all about—Otoya has been afraid of them for as long as he can remember knowing him—but it doesn’t seem like he’s about to share now, and perhaps now isn’t the time anyways. Otoya needs rest, which he’s going to get, or at least once he stops gasping for breath again. Tokiya belatedly realizes that Otoya is laying almost completely on top of him, on his stomach, which probably makes breathing hard, not that the idiot laying on him seems to be moving anytime soon. Tokiya shifts to tip both of them onto their sides, and sighs when Otoya clings even harder. “You can’t breathe,” he protests.

“I’m okay!”

The pause he has to take in between words says otherwise, and Tokiya takes initiative, pushing him back so that he can also shift onto his side before pulling Otoya back into his chest. “Better?”

“Oh.”

“Deep breaths.” Otoya flounders for a few more inhales before he can get a full breath in. “If you can’t breathe, you have to tell me. They wanted to keep you on the oxygen machine for another day.”

The hum Otoya gives sounds like he’ll tell Tokiya that he can’t breathe when hell freezes over, which is probably the next time Otoya will want to go to the hospital. “I’m fine,” he says after a minute. Tokiya wants to argue, because he’s obviously not fine, and he even opens his mouth to do so, but Otoya snuggles further into his chest and tugs at the back of his shirt. “Sing to me?”

“Huh?”

“I listened to you singing to help me sleep when I was in the hospital.” This is apparently sleepy honesty hour, because this is more candid than he expected from even Otoya.

He traces over Otoya’s cheek and pushes his hair back from his face. “What song?”

“All of them. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

If Tokiya had thought about it, he might have done the same thing, not that he probably would have admitted it to Otoya. “Promise you’ll sleep?”

“Promise.”

His voice is a little rusty—he hasn’t warmed up, and he’s been tense the last few days, so his range isn’t what it usually is—but he does sing, and Otoya slowly starts to doze. He can feel the tension release in the redhead’s body until there’s nothing but heavy breathing and quiet murmurs of contentment. A knot forms in his chest, and he presses a kiss to the crown of Otoya’s head as he swallows the lump in his throat. He’s not entirely sure what he’s supposed to do in situations like this, where Otoya can’t be cured by some temporary lifestyle changes, and it has him out of his element, but even if he can’t do anything else, he can do this. He can sing Otoya to sleep, and he intends to do so every night until he’s better.

The warmth makes his eyelids feel heavy too, even though he hadn’t planned on sleeping at all. He should make some soup or something that’s easy for Otoya to eat, and find the hot water bottle that’s stashed away in some cupboard in the bathroom after the last time it was used, and really, he probably needs to call their agent and Shining as well to give them an update, but all of that seems unimportant for now. He presses another kiss to the top of Otoya’s head and tightens his arms. “I love you,” he murmurs between songs, even though he knows Otoya has a better chance of doing backflips in his sleep than hearing him. And then he goes back to singing with the first words that come to mind. He’s improvising now, but they’re lyrics that come from his heart.

_“I love you.”_

_“I love you, until the end of the world comes.”_

_“Loving isn’t something that comes easily to me.”_

_“And so I pray to the sky that I can learn to love you properly.”_


End file.
